Taking Jana (Paradise South #2) (17 page)

Really, it was true. He’d once thought his mother had been the strongest person alive. Yesinia Ruiz had raised twelve kids, managed a husband and had held two jobs, but when she took her own life, he’d felt like the Earth had fallen out of its orbit around the Sun. Because he could no longer trust anything anymore, including the strength of the Sun’s gravitational pull. Many years had passed before he began to believe in people again, in gravity again. And just as soon as he’d begun to trust his footing on this floating rock of a planet, he’d met Michelle.

But here and now, he was in awe of this woman sitting beside him. Jana Park was brave beyond his comprehension. Solidly grounded. A warrior. A warrior princess.

He pulled into the hospital drive as she clutched her purse close to her chest, getting ready to leave the limo and reenter Fort Lee General.

“Thanks for saying that, Antonio. God, I need every bit of courage every time I step into this place.” She gave him an unconvincing smile. “Here’s to another day in paradise, yes?” The somber and surrendered expression drawn on her face hurt his heart.

“I’ll be here when you come out,” he said to her before she shut her door.
I’ll be
here.

*

She was totally drained after another horrid day with her father. She collapsed into the passenger seat and exhaled.

Antonio placed a bag containing a white box of hot food on her lap. “Best Korean food in North Jersey. I’ve been craving it ever since I dropped you at your house that first night. And even though your folks live upstairs from it, I wasn’t sure if you’ve ever eaten there or had it in a while, since you said you’ve lived in the City for the last few years…but man, it’s the best.”

She couldn’t contain her laughter. Crying, sobbing laughter. The takeout menu inside the bag had the
Korean Soul
logo she’d created more than a decade ago, and seeing it made her laugh harder still.

“What? Did you grow up on Korean food and now you despise it more than a needle in the eye? Or do you hate the place?”

She shook her head, unable to speak or breathe through her sputtering laughter. “Literally, I grew up on the food
and
I hate the place. It’s my parents’ place. My folks’ restaurant. And with my mother running the show on her own…well, just tell me, did you already eat?”

“No, I was waiting for you.” He smiled.

Thank God! Food poisoning Antonio by familial proxy would’ve made her feel terrible and would have possibly killed them both on the drive, the limo operator falling dead at the wheel then the limo careening off the highway.

But, wow that was sweet of him, getting dinner and waiting to eat with her. Too sweet, really. Warmth filled her chest.

“That’s nuts.
Korean Soul
is your family’s place?”

“Yup. My mother is insisting on keeping it running, but I’m praying that no one gets sick and sues them. Then I’d be doing this shit for the rest of my life! I’d kill myself, I swear,” she said and took the boxes of food, opened the door, and moved to get out and throw them away. But when she looked at him to be sure he understood what she was doing, his face was solemn, a hint of what might have been anger tinted his eyes. “It’s okay, we’ll pick something else up on our way…and I’ll pay.”

His eyes pierced hers. “Please, don’t ever joke about killing yourself.” Then he turned to look straight ahead.

Whoa.
A thick downpour of intensity drenched the air. “I’m sorry. Just a figure of speech.”

He shook his head and blinked slowly. “Of course. Sorry to get all serious.” He sighed and looked at her. “We can just…stop at a Mexican spot I know. They’re good and fast.”

Jana stared. She’d hit a nerve, or more like a deep wound, and felt horrible about it even though it was, of course, unintentional. She slowly climbed out of the limo to trash the food then came back in a second later. “Antonio, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, my turn to tell you to just ignore
me
. You’re fine. Really.” He pulled out of the spot and headed out of the parking lot. Her phone rang before either of them could say anything else about it.

*

“Sorry, gotta take this. It’s my best friend.” Jana had texted Luly that morning with the bouncing
email-saga
.

He nodded as she answered Lu’s call––in Spanish of course, wanting to speak as candidly as possible. And she had to take the call. Beside it being hard as hell reaching Luly in the first place, Jana needed to know what Lu may have found out about Nora, the department, her position.

“Lu, tell me everything!”

Luly assured Jana that her position was still being held…for now. Dr. Nora Lance had been transferred, and Dr. Roberts had replaced her with the chief resident from the geropsych unit, a chauvinist asshole named Dr. Grant.

“In two days’ time? Over a weekend? And why didn’t Nora even call me and tell me any of this? Isn’t that strange? And is Grant planning any changes?”

“Not sure about Nora, maybe she’s just swamped. It was literally Friday night that she got the news. And as for ER changes, none yet. Sounds like he’ll be observing for the next few weeks.
Tranquilo
, Jana. I will keep you posted. It’ll all work out.”

So said Luly. Luly had a strange take on work, probably because she had a family to support. A job was a job, a hospital was a hospital, and money was money. Whatever paid the bills.

But for Jana, the MMU ER was the pinnacle; the level of care was unmatched, and her being a part of that team, well, it was reflective.

“But how are you? You doin’ okay?” Luly asked, exuding a motherly tone, as always.

“Hanging in there. Everything’s as you’d imagine. Well, except for my unexpected guardian angel, the limo driver.”

“Guardian angel, huh? Thought he was a dickhead?”

“Well, I was wrong, maybe heard what I wanted to. But he turns out to be a really good guy. Unlike any man I’ve ever met.”

“Not saying much for you, hun.”

“I know, right? But he’s…well, I guess I could call him a friend. Yeah, a man friend.”
Hmm.

“Hey, a friend with a cock might be really helpful for stress relief right now. Is he hot? ’Cause I know a chauffeur makes no money…but if he’s nice to look at….”

“Him not having money is more of a
turn-on
than anything these days,” she said, thinking of Johnnie and the club and hell, her family and all the
god-awful
associations she had with money in general. “But yes, he’s attractive.” Who was she kidding? “Actually, he’s really damn hot.” She laughed while Luly catcalled in response.

“Girl, you deserve a little fun. Do your thing, Jana. Please! And hey, I can live vicariously through you. Have a fling for your beloved bestie, for Christ’s sakes! Make it my birthday present.”

“Lu, come on. Deserve it or no, I have no time or energy for a fun fling.” Jana sighed. “Anyway, what I really need is for you to do everything humanly possible to make sure my position is held for me. It looks like I’m gonna be here for at least six weeks. Or possibly more. I can’t handle losing all I’ve worked for, Luly.”

“Don’t worry about that, Jana. You’re an amazing nurse, you can work anywhere….”

“NO. No, I cannot, Luly. You know me and how hard I’ve—we’ve—worked to get into the rotation at MMU. THE Manhattan ER, Lu!”

“For all the raw life you’ve lived, Jana Park, you still think that shit matters? The name of the facility? The titles, the—”

“No, Lu, it’s not that! The facility, the doctors, they are the best of the best! That’s what matters.”

“Beyond needing a livelihood, I thought we got into nursing to help people?”

A righteous punch to the gut from her best friend was not what she needed right now. Not after the several hellish days she’d had, with too many hellish weeks to come.

“Oh, Lu…sorry, I gotta go…got to the club and I’m late getting in.” Jana hated conflict, she hated criticism, and she hated that the words Luly lovingly stabbed her with might have rung too true. Jana knew that Luly knew about her escapist coping mechanisms. She couldn’t face this shit right now.

*

She ended the call feeling lousy, so she stared out the windshield as they tore down
I-95
, about thirty minutes away from the club. No traffic, although she wished there was. She needed more time to cool off.

“So…” Antonio broke the silence. “You think I’m attractive?” Antonio asked, his eyes focused hard on the road ahead.

“What kind of question is that?” She turned to him, shocked and laughing a little at the awkward remark. Then she got nervous. Was he teasing her? Yes, he had to be. She’d started to get his sense of humor yesterday during their grocery run. Yeah, he was messing with her. “I mean…uh, yeah, I guess you’re an attractive person. Sure.” Then she waited for the punch line.

“No, no…you said I was ‘damn hot.’ ‘
Esta rechulo
.’ That’s what you said.”

Her breath got shallow. Cheeks burning. “You…heard? Understood?”

“I understood, yes.” He cracked up. “That you think I’m
gooorgeous
.”

“Whoa, I didn’t say that!” She got more frazzled.

And he only got more of a kick out of it, waggling his eyebrows at her and smirking.

“You were eavesdropping on my call?”

“Not really. I mean, it was easier to tune you out when you sat in the backseat, but now you’re right next to me. And you have my mp3 player, so I can’t even block you out with that.” He laughed. “But anyway, you think I’m
seeeeexy.
”

She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest; he was enjoying himself a little too much.

“You’re pouting.”

“You’re Spanish, not Italian?” she said, summarizing her understanding as she felt her cheeks get even hotter. Running through her memory, what else had she said to Luly on the call?
Crap!
Calls, plural! And on her last call to Lu, she’d called him a prick. Was that all? Oh God, she hoped that was all.

“I’m from Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, on the beautiful Pacific coast, where yes, Spanish is the native language,” he teased.

Of course.
How could she have been so stupid to assume he was Italian just because he worked for the Demontes?

“The question, though, is how do you speak Spanish so damn beautifully? You’re Korean. And you speak Korean? God, you’re trilingual, woman!”

She softened with the compliment. Any annoyance over the fact that he’d neglected to tell her that Spanish was his first language all but vanished. Now she just felt like a stupid, ignorant asshole. She sighed. “First off, sorry for calling you a prick….”

“You called me a prick?”

“Yeah, when you made the
consultant-stripper
comment.”

“I must’ve successfully tuned you out then.” He snickered, subtle dimples on his cheeks showing themselves as he messed with her further.

“Well, I don’t think you’re a prick anymore.”

“I know. You think I’m
suuuper
fine!”

She punched him in the arm and gave him her death look as her cheeks flared up. Again. “Secondly, if I may continue…”

“Of course,
princessa
.”

She glared at him, then cleared her throat. “Thank you, sir. So…my maternal grandfather was Colombian. I was really close to him. My father would try to stop him from teaching me Spanish, but it motivated
mi abuelo
even more.” She smiled, loving the memory of the family dynamic. Her grandfather had been the only source of positive male attention in her life. “Yeah, he wasn’t about to let his daughter’s asshole husband tell him to stop teaching
his
culture and language to
his
granddaughter. And, man, he went all out. Taught me the food, music, dance…even some
Cumbia
moves—”

“
Cumbia
, huh?” One side of his mouth lifted, a seductive glimmer in his eye to match the
inherently-sensual
national dance style of Columbia. Sensuality in dance and music never held the same stigma in South America as it did in the States.

“Yeah,
Cumbia
. And man did it ever help me get a step ahead in the clubs. For sure,” she said with an assuredly proud glint in her eye. Then she immediately shucked the pride off for shame. “God, he’d roll over in his grave…”

“Hey, you danced because you had to, for your family.”

“Yeah.” She nodded, then shook her head and sighed. “Anyway,
mi abuelo
…” Just the image of her grandfather brought her comfort. “Well, he only spoke Spanish to me. It was like our own secret language; my father and brother hated it.” She smiled. “He really was the greatest. And, oh man, his ceviche! He taught me the old family recipe. The best you could ever dream of!” She closed her eyes as she spoke, imagining that specific, delectable taste on her tongue.

“Whoa, whoa, hey now.
My mother
makes—made…” he paused, clearing his throat and quickly focused on the road to make a lane change, “made
the
most
kick-ass
ceviche. On. The. Planet. And
I
know
her
secret recipe,” he said, turning to her, an unmistakable spark in his eyes.

She smiled and lifted a brow at him, her competitive nature surfacing. “We’ll just see about that. We’ll have a
cook-off
sometime.” But as quickly as the words formed, so did the realization that it would never happen. She’d be too busy working, paying down her folks’ snowballing debts, then God willing, she’d be back at her ER in Manhattan. So, ever being
side-by
-side in a kitchen with Antonio was just not likely.

And that made her feel a little sad. She enjoyed his company. He made her smile, let her breathe. Yeah, the thought sucked. With that downer in mind, she was ready to be back in her zone. “Hey, um, before we get there, I’m just gonna….” She held up her—his—earbuds and music player.

“Please, go ahead,” he said. “Do your thing. I’ll be sitting here, you know, driving. Me, smokin’ hot modelesque man, driving along.” He kept his eyes straight ahead as he said it, but didn’t hide his
perma-grin
.